Distance: 61.36 miles

Time: 6:30

Elevation: 2807 feet

I started the day by pedalling the half mile back into Dunkeld for breakfast, getting plenty of time to realise how attractive a historic town it was as I struggled to find anywhere for breakfast.

Ending up at a deli on the Main Street, I took my spoils to a bench by the river. Quickly polishing off a chorizo and goats cheese baguette, I turned to the pain au chocolat and pasteis de nata, I’d bought for later. Still hungry, it called for drastic action, so I ripped open a bag of Crispy M&Ms to see me through the 14 miles until Pitlochry.

Keeping to quiet roads, and old traces of the A9, I ducked and wove beside the new A9, before crossing it at Logierait, and one steep switchback led me to miles of tree-lined solitude.

Emerging just west of Pitlochry, I happened upon the Port-na-Craig Inn, with its fine river-side aspect, enjoying a burger in the, thankfully, shaded beer garden.

Through bustling Pitlochry I went, then onwards and upwards, over the Pass of Killiecrankie, then onwards again to Blair Atholl. On my approach, I was passed by 20 or more horse boxes, and then a sign for the Blair Atholl Estate International Horse Trials gave a clue. Thinking it must have finished and that I’d seen most of the horses leaving, I couldn’t believe it when I passed the estate and saw a field of horse boxes as far as the eye could see.

The House of Bruar was next on the A9 road-trippers itinerary, and it seemed like a good place for an ice cream. Typically House of Bruar, their range of ice creams were exclusively created by local ice cream heavyweight Mackie’s, with one customer moaning that she could have just taken a tub of vanilla out of the freezer. I chatted to a couple on a day out from Cupar, the man’s Dad had cycled the A9 in the 50s, perhaps when it had a few less cars on it.

Back on the trail, on a pristine bike path, a disclaimer was required, for what was to follow. And what was to follow, but a 20 mile foray over the Drumochter Pass, peaking at 462 metres.

Tracking the River Garry, the path climbed slowly but surely, up through the trees, and up again onto a high plateau, the ascent ever more gradual. The sun had been lost to cloud and the breeze had become a gale as I battled on upwards to the top of the pass.

Joining the road, to crest the summit, I took satisfaction from knowing that this was the highest point of the whole Land’s End to John o’Groats route.

Over the top, the landmarks became more frequent, passing the Balsporran Cottages, from where Munros have been climbed, to Dalwhinnie where my Dad’s favourite whisky is crafted, to Crubenmore Lodge, where my brother’s stag do was held, and on to Newtonmore, where family holidays were spent.

Reaching Kingussie, 60 miles in, and back at a slightly less hostile altitude of 250 metres, I looked for somewhere to stay, and came across a very basic camping field down by a stables. Accommodation booked, I dined in the chippy, before rolling down past the station and into the field. When I started to set up, it felt like there was a little rain in the air, but surely not, not this week…

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